for all_at_sea : if I had a heart

[whisted]

Jack Simpson is enjoying this.

That, more than anything, is what has Horatio Hornblower feeling so painfully trapped. There had been a terrible sinking in his gut when his own name had been called during the reaping. There had been a heavy weight that lingered even after his mother's hand was dragged from his shoulder and his father's voice had vanished from his ears. For all that had ripped something from him, the odd inevitable hadn't been so terrible. A piece of him, even now, thinks he could manage to have properly accepted it.

But then, through the haze, had come the harrowing sound of Simpson's name. That had been far too much far too fast. That had been the worst sort of death warrant; the immediate shifting of hope toward dying at the hands of anyone but his District's other tribute.

None of the rest of it had helped, of course. Being dragged far from home was excruciating. Being poked and prodded and needled and explained to, by tense displeased voices, that he somehow didn't even stand and wear his clothes correctly was torturous. Even the odd comfort of being handed into the care of his mentor was undercut by the horrific fact of Simpson standing nearly constantly beside him, practically preening with a nauseating sort of pride.

In defense of the prep team, of course, Horatio apparently doesn't know how to stand properly. It doesn't matter that his fingers grip tight to the chariot, or that all he properly has to do in the Tribute Parade is actually stand still with the faintest bit of a smile. It's just a blessing, Pellew is certainly sighing to himself, that the Capitol seems to find a tribute managing to fall off the back of a chariot faintly endearing.

(Simpson will make his life hell for it later. Thankfully, Horatio doesn't anticipate having that much more life to have to suffer through.)

It will be better, he tells himself, when they can be separated in the Training Center. It will almost be enjoyable, perhaps, to have these few days of being able to make some small amount of space for himself before Jack Simpson thoroughly enjoys killing him.

Comments

[all_at_sea]

"You keep house and I'll be the bread winner?" James laughs, biting it back quickly because they're meant to be dancing, and talking while dancing is considered unseemly. James has never understood why, after all, if you like someone enough to dance, why wouldn't you want to talk to them? Perhaps it's a matter of what you talk about.

There's only a few steps left, the music changing and he can't pretend he isn't slightly disappointed. He should have continued, but he knows Horatio probably would prefer to melt back into the crowd and away from all the attention. He won't ask him to take another turn on the floor, it wouldn't be fair.

Besides, he can see Lady Barbara watching him, and he's almost certain that, although her lips smile, her eyes are threatening to kill him. He should probably ask her to dance, if only so she can tell him how unhappy she is with him now.

"Tomorrow morning then?" He asks, once the dance ends and the couples split, new dancers moving onto the floor. "Right after breakfast?"

If he had at least made some plans for training with Horatio, Lady Barbara couldn't be too upset for whatever slight embarrassment he had caused her.

[whisted]

The laugh is oddly reassuring, however quickly it's bitten back. Horatio's fingers squeeze a little tighter.

For a moment, Horatio can almost forget that this is the worst place he could possibly be.

"Tomorrow morning."

His fingers stay tight. His attention stays focused on James's face. It's so much safer, so much happier, standing right here with James holding onto him.

[all_at_sea]

James has to let go, although holding Horatio had felt completely natural, he knew that as other dances piled into the centre of the room that they couldn't linger. He nods, a small, more indulgent smile crossing his features.

Once Horatio is hidden by the crowd, James sets his shoulders, squaring them. He slips through the crowd and finds Lady Barbara stood where he had last seen her. He's not exactly sure what that expression means, but women are an enigma wrapped in a mystery, and even more so the ones who work within the Games.

Still, he's sure whatever she has to say to him won't be enjoyable, and he might as well face it now.

He bows, low and respectful and then offers her his hand. "Would you do me the honour, Lady Barbara?"

[wellesley]

They look good together. They have similar dark looks and long necks. They have the same faint sympathetic wrinkling in their foreheads and around their eyes. More than that, they look at each other well; soft, friendly, just the faintest bit longing for something indistinct beyond the edge of their reality.

Barbara could work with this. She is, ultimately. The soft stories being spun to the potential patrons circled around her come easily enough. So do the affectionate sighs. So do the soft tutting smiles.

That doesn't mean she likes the way James looks at the boy from District 11 at all.

"Isn't he a sweet young man, hm?" Another contented sigh is cast around the circle around her as Barbara reaches to take James's hand. One last push, clearly. "If you'll excuse us a moment."

She's silent as she follows James into the twirling crowd. She's smiling as she ducks her head slightly to murmur closer to his ear.

"That little display wasn't meant to be part of it, James."

[all_at_sea]

James' hand sits in careful position on her waist- not too high, not too low, as they join the rest of the dancers. Lady Barbara has a little more practice with this, a lot more if he's being honest, and so he doesn't have to focus on slow, easy-to-follow steps.

He's listening for the soft words, expecting them before they're said, but he is slightly surprised they aren't more biting.

His shoulders move a fraction, relaxing into a shrug, or perhaps it's just the tension ebbing away.

"You told us there would be dancing, Lady Barbara. I thought it would be better if he danced with me."

He couldn't dance with Simpson, or Pellew, or anyone else. He didn't even know how to, what was James to do in that situation?

"Besides, you did say I was to teach him."

That was a little impudent, he realised. Barbara probably wouldn't find it amusing. Still, she had told him, in not so many words, to look after Horatio, and so he was. Not right now, of course, but hopefully Horatio was with Matthews and Pellew, and they'd take him back to the Tribute's apartments.

[wellesley]

Barbara had spent most of her life leaning to lead backwards. She had more years than she liked to count sweeping across exactly this floor with the same precise, familiar motions.

She had spent more years than she liked to count watching children like the one half-leading her now die.

"I did."

Her head ducks slightly closer. Her quiet smile stays in place, shoulders relaxed for all the world to see. It's simply her voice, quiet as anything, that registers clear frustration.

"You should teach him and you should work with him. You should certainly be seen with him. But that?"

James must know that he was actually grinning at the younger boy. James must realize that the beginnings of devotion had been creeping into his features and the way he held the other Tribute's hand. James must not be blind to the obvious beginnings of a visible crush.

[all_at_sea]

James doesn't intend to die. He doesn't suppose any of the others mean to, but he knows Horatio has resigned himself to the fact he will. There's no need for the boy to die and James will do his best to save him if he can.

He doesn't like the way she says I know, it promises for something biting around the corner. Everything else about her, the pose and the smile and the gentle pressure of her hand in his is reassuring and positive. But even so, the hair on the back of his neck is stood on end. This is probably what prey feels like when it's being played with by a tiger.

He makes a slight face, trying to work out exactly what she means. He enjoyed dancing with Horatio. Is that such a problem? Should he not like it?

"I don't understand Lady Barbara. What did I do wrong?"

They were seen together. He had taught him some basic steps. He had made Horatio feel a little better. What could be so objectionable about that? He knew hed enjoyed it, he liked Horatio.

Maybe that was the problem. Only one of them was going to get out. Lady Barbara clearly intended James to be the victor, but if he got attached that would never come to pass.

[wellesley]

James Norrington is an incredible Tribute. There are remarkable odds on him making it through, particularly with a better suited partner than the other boy from District 1.

And yet, here he is, making a small face and missing the signs of his own affection.

"Don't pretend."

He isn't, she's fairly certain. He should be. He should be acutely aware of the genuine contentment he seemed to have during that last brief dance. He should have shut the emotion down instantly.

Her fingers squeeze just a hair fretfully at James's as she ducks slightly closer to his ear. "You need to be careful. Now more than ever."

[all_at_sea]

It's very easy to see signs of tenderness, of affection, of weakness, in other people if you're used to looking for it. James can see a weakness in battle, he can spot affection between his peers, although probably not as quickly as other people. Spotting it in himself? That's harder. Especially in such a short time. The last week or so has been so tiring and so different from his usual routine, so harrowing in comparison to training at home that reading his own emotions is near impossible, remember what it felt like not to watch everyone all the time is difficult.

Was is so wrong to relax just a little, to enjoy a short moment in the company of a friend? Or someone who could be a friend? Clearly it was. Clearly Lady Barbara was concerned. But surely not about Horatio.

"Yes ma'am. Do you think he is that much of a threat?"

Perhaps not in himself, James couldn't imagine Horatio being a physical threat. And he couldn't imagine this being some sort of trick by Horatio and Simpson to divide and conquer the Tributes from District 1.

[wellesley]

"If you keep letting him turn into a distraction."

This sort of thing had to be cut off early. This sort of thing could get so deep under the skin so quickly.

"If he's going to get you twisted, we'll call this off."

It would be more difficult to keep James alive without someone like Horatio helping, admittedly. There wasn't enough time to get James where he needed to be with foraging and trapping, with properly hiding and keeping himself alive outside of combat.

But surely it would be better than watching James fall apart because a boy had smiled at him.

[all_at_sea]

James did well to keep his demeanour neutral. He didn't let his face fall at the odea of not working with Horatio, he didn't let himself feel offended when she said he was already infatuated.

He wasn't infatuated. He knew that. He liked Horatio, but that was it. He'd made a friend.

But he could take the warning. Lady Barbara was there to help him, to guide him and he would acknowledge that. He would appreciate it.

He let himself nod, letting her skirts swish against his legs as they turned in the dance floor.

"Thank you Lady Barbara. But I think it would be good to have a friend in the arena. We can learn a lot from each other and..."

He paused and licked his lips and then continued.

"And I people will be expecting us to work together after dancing tonight."

[wellesley]

At least he hasn't forgotten everything. At least he's still holding his features still and steady as they drift gently across the dance floor.

"They will. That bit you've done-- very well."

There was already a buzz. There was already chatter here and there at the party which would infect the rest of the Capital before the end of the week. There would be interested inquiries, Barbara was certain, about that bright young star from District 1 and his apparent interest in the scrappy Tribute from District 11.

"But there's friends, hm, and then there's friends in the arena."

James and Horatio might well make it to the end. Only James or Horatio would make it out.

[all_at_sea]

"I rather think I'll need him," James said. "I'll be little use fighting anyone if I can't find food or water. He has those skills."

That at least he could be objective about. James would not be able to feed himself, work out what was poisonous and what was safe, what he could use on the edges of blades to make sure even glancing blows would cripple his opponents. He would need that knowledge, and he didn't have time to acquire it. He'd have to gain as much as he could from Horatio, but until they were there, in the arena, there was no way he would be able to learn everything he needed.

"The little ones will always surprise you, Lady Barbara." He offers. Horatio may well be more valuable than she knows.

[wellesley]

"I've no doubt he'll be an incredible ally in a practical regard."

Her fingers lift briefly from James's shoulders, patting fretfully at his cheek instead. To the world at large, it looks like Barbara is affectionately handling her charge. James, she's certain, will understand the reprimand.

"But I'll not have you mistaking how this will end, James."

Maybe it will end with both of them dead, the older first in an attempt to keep the younger alive. Maybe it will end with only James standing, a piece of him lost in the haze of--more likely than not--taking the life of someone he had come to consider a genuine friend.

"Be careful."

[all_at_sea]

James know what it means. He doesn't have to like it.

"Yes Lady Barbara." He says, trying to see respectful and meek under her experience and wisdom. She knows what she's talking about, he knows that. He knows he should be listening to her, but part of him, that rebellious streak his father had never really managed to beat out of him, is already forming other ideas.

He might get both of them killed, he realises. But the odds are already stacked against them, what harm will it do?

Besides, he's not been twisted by Horatio. It's just so nice to find someone here that he doesn't hate. That he could have been friends with, in any other circumstances. He wants to prove to the Gamemakers that he will not be made inhuman by the situation.

"Even so, ma'am, I'd like your permission to train with him first thing after breakfast. We're going to look at snares."

[wellesley]

Some people like to think she's soft. The careful kiss pressed to the Tribute's temple is meant solely to encourage that before her hand drops to James's shoulder again.

"You're going to put a knife in that boy's hand, too. Before anyone else gets there."

It mattered less if James appeared well-rounded to the other Tributes. Part of this alliance would have to be keeping secret what could be cobbled together to make Horatio even faintly dangerous.

"Make sure he can do more than calmly-- skin a rabbit with it, or-- whatever it is they do."

[all_at_sea]

James has been thinking about that. Horatio will have to know how to handle a weapon and knives are probably the easiest, as he should already know the basics of using a blade.

Even so, James knows Horatio will find it hard. If only they had longer... But he can't ever see Horatio being cold and calculating enough to use a bow. You aren't defending yourself with a bow, you're making the first move at a distance. A knife is better. At a pinch someone scared for their life can fight their way out of a corner.

"I will. I was going to start tomorrow. I wanted to start before the other tributes arrived."

Then at least no one would see how terrible he is at traps or Horatio is with knives. And maybe they can talk together some more without anyone watching them.

[wellesley]

"There's a good boy."

The squeeze of her fingers at his shoulder is brief but genuine. The flash of her smile as she glances out over the rest of the room is much more mechanical, if flawlessly executed.

"You just keep that head on your shoulders."

Literally, to the extent possible.

[all_at_sea]

If they stayed for much longer at the Ball, James didn't see Horatio, or his mentor. The rest of the evening passed as a blur of bright colours and conversation, although James tried very hard not to comment too much when pressed about that charming boy from District One. It wasn't worth unintentionally upsetting Lady Barbara any more than he had already.

He tossed and he turned over night, unable to settle despite how exhausted he felt. When he did sleep, strange dreams about dancing with Simpson filled his mind, a knife slide between his ribs while they span across a dark dancefloor.

He was awake far earlier than even Lady Barbara would have deemed acceptable, and as there seemed little point in going back to bed, he dressed and ate and then headed down to the Training room. He could at least stretch and do a little training before Horatio arrived, and get the bad taste of his dreams out of his mouth.

He could only hope Horatio had gone to bed a little more at ease.

[whisted]

Thankfully, Pellew had been able to keep Horatio effectively stuck to his side until the correct amount of face-time had been achieved. Also thankfully, Pellew had been able to keep Horatio quietly beside him even once returning to the rooms reserved for his Tributes.

It might not be enough to keep talking to the boy until Simpson had fallen asleep, but it couldn't hurt.

Horatio, for his own part, barely sleeps. He's never slept particularly well. Here, in a strange place with the Games looming at the end of the week, it's amazing he gets any sleep at all.

He lingers in his own quarters until a more respectable time all the same. He contemplates over and over the reality that today will require him to confront, properly, what the end of his life is likely going to be.

Despite that, he can't quite hold back a hesitant smile when he slips into the training room and sees only James. Maybe it's silly to imagine that the older boy is a genuine potential friend, but it feels good to hope for something.

[all_at_sea]

Pellew is an angel. A strange sort of angel, but one none the less. His gentler sort of affection probably wouldn't work on Tributes from District 1, but it's probably the sort of attention Horatio needs. Protective and but far from suffocating. Pellew doesn't have Lady Barbara's problem of having to appear a genteel lady- he can give his Tributes a smack on the back of the head as necessary.

Not that James knows anything about what measures Pellew has taken- but he's glad to see Horatio step into the room in one piece. He finds himself straightening up, smiling and gesturing him over, and trying not to think about how they danced and the way Horatio squeezed his hand.

"Good morning," He said, realising this was a little formal, but not really sure how to be less-so. Friendship was a strange thing to navigate in these circumstances.

"I... Lady Barbara has suggested that if we spend a little time on traps and snares, I should also teach you a little about knives. Or other weapons, if you prefer it."

Hopefully before anyone else turned up to watch them.

[whisted]

There's comfort in settling himself into place beside James again. It feels safe to stand beside someone who had gone to the mat with Simpson. It feels safe to listen to someone who had held his hand gently and guided him through an overwhelming cacophony of other human beings.

None of that stops his face from falling slightly, gaze dropping to their feet before he can force himself to nod.

"I don't-- know how much I can learn."

It's the right thing to do. It's the right thing even just to have bits and scraps of knowledge before he's meant to be helpful to the taller boy.

It still sink his gut a little.

[all_at_sea]

James sees Horatio's face fall and he shakes his head, reaching out to gently put his hand on Horatio's shoulder again.

"Don't worry. You have a much harder task- trying to teach me to fend for myself." He says, offering a small smile of encouragement. "Or at least, help you fend for us. As far as I knew, food just arrived on plates. Catching it is a revelation."

Barbara was right in one respect; if Horatio was used to catching and preparing games for the pot, he was used to sharp knives. The hard bit would be teaching him to use them on humans. But if all James could do was give him some pointers that Horatio could use if he needed to, then he would.

"Anyway- our deal is that I do the messy bits, and you keep house. I'll keep trouble as far away from you as I can, I promise."

[whisted]

This will help. If they survive long enough to find each other properly after the bloodbath, it's good to know that a gentle hand on his shoulder is so incredibly calming. It will be different once the killing starts, Horatio knows. It will be different once he's had to face the reality of Simpson's first choices; his own first choices.

But a tiny piece of him feels slightly safer in the knowledge that James's hand on his shoulder feels safe.

"You're not-- serious."

The team would work well enough. The division of labour would make them a strong team. A deep breath makes it easier to start drifting toward the collection of knives set out for them.

"You've never made a meal?"

[all_at_sea]

James lifts his hand from Horatio's shoulder and shrugs. He's never had to worry about food. He's always been training for the games, which in District One means hand-to-hand combat. Sure, some of his peers might have gone into the wild, but James never had. Food wasn't in short supply, there was no need to go find it.

"I can't say I ever have."

He should probably be embarrassed about that. And he is, more about the excess and the comfort he took for granted than his own inexperience. He might not be able to hunt rabbits, but he'd had food and drink and healthcare and training, and his District had asked him for very little in return. No wonder District One were always the favourites.

"I am a blank slate. Impart your knowledge." He says, stopping by the table of supplies- rope and cord and knives, bits of wood. It all (well, apart from the knives) looks a little mystifying.